


In the Pale Moonlight

by Lanning



Category: DCU, Smallville
Genre: Alternate Reality, Crossover, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-05-09
Updated: 2004-05-09
Packaged: 2017-10-03 16:13:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lanning/pseuds/Lanning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A post-series scene from the Identical universe. Lex and Clark meet the man who will become the Joker for the first time. They don't get on very well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Pale Moonlight

**Author's Note:**

> I borrowed both name and backstory from the 1989 film for my pre-Joker. Because who could resist a line like that? ;)

The shadow moved with startling speed from between two rather splendid examples of German engineering and solidified at Lex's elbow. Lex felt the all-too-familiar edge of a gun barrel digging into his neck and sighed. Maybe Clark had been right about parking garages at night after all.

"Wallet." The tone was pleasant, almost conversational.

Lex snorted. "You have got to be kidding."

"Wallet."

"This is revoltingly declassé, you know. Lunging at people in dark parking garages went out with pet rocks."

"Do you want to die?"

"Occasionally."

"Do you want to die _now_?"

"It's not on my itinerary for this evening, no."

The stranger drew a breath that sounded more like a snake's hiss than any human vocalization, and Lex grimaced. Great. Another Metropolis maniac. There were more of them than he had ever imagined; no wonder Lionel had enjoyed so much success here. Lex caught sight of the man's smirk, glittering eyes and absolutely hideous suit as they entered the range of his peripheral vision.

"Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?" the stranger whispered.

"I was raised by the devil," Lex returned drily, "And trust me, he doesn't dance."

Lex sensed his attacker's body stiffen, and knew the conversation was over. Seizing the man's gun arm, Lex shoved it upward as he kicked his attacker's legs out from under him, sending the man sprawling onto his back. The gun went off, and the bullet ricocheted off the concrete ceiling to crash through the windshield of a hapless Mercedes, setting off its alarm, and the alarms of several other cars in its proximity. Lex slammed his foot against the stranger's throat and twisted the gun out of his hand as the man squirmed on the oil-stained pavement, trying to free himself.

"Not very good at this, are you?" Lex examined the Glock. "Your choice of firearm is impressive, though. I'm glad to see your mother doesn't arm you, even if she does dress you."

The stranger clawed upward toward Lex with his free hand, his face twisted in fury. "Kill you," he managed to grate through the pressure on his windpipe.

"No, see, that's my line." Lex shoved the barrel of the gun under the man's chin, and he went still. "Because I have the weapon. Fundamentals, Mr... I'm sorry, I don't believe we've been introduced."

"Fuck you."

"As last words go, they're not bad. Colorful, at any rate." Lex watched his finger tighten on the trigger as if it belonged to someone else. "I appreciate your thoughtfulness in providing a full clip." He watched the stranger's eyes widen in horror with considerable satisfaction. One less thug out there to take a pot-shot at Clark.

A red and blue blur burst into Lex's field of vision, and he found himself shoved away with sufficient force to break his grip on his attacker's wrist and remove his foot from the man's throat. Clark solidified in front of him. Lex relaxed in relief to see that the lunatic had at least had the presence of mind to engage the hologram. The technology's inability to accurately convey facial expressions didn't trouble Lex in the slightest; he could detect a pissed-off Clark Kent at half a mile's distance.

"What the hell are you doing?" Clark pried the gun from Lex's hand.

"Engaging in the manly art of self-defense."

The stranger rolled over to haul himself onto his hands and knees, no doubt with the dubious notion of a hasty departure, but Clark seized him by the lapel of his appalling jacket and hauled him to his feet. "What did he want?"

Lex shrugged. "He asked me to dance. I tried to tell him I was spoken for, but--"

"Did he hurt you?"

That voice was all Lex needed to hear. Why Clark couldn't stay angry with him was beyond his comprehension. He'd nearly crossed that damn line again. "I'm fine, Jiminy."

Clark whirled toward the stranger, yanking him close. "Who are you? Who do you work for?"

"You can call me Jack." The man was smirking.

"Is that really your name?"

Jack shrugged, despite the obvious difficulties presented in doing so. "'What's in a name? A rose by any other name--'"

"You're not a rose, asshole. I want to know your real name."

"Why? A man can change his name. A man can even change his face." Jack lifted his hand and, before Lex could stop him, touched Clark's face, his fingers disappearing behind the holographic projection. "Impressive technology."

Lex yanked Jack's hand away from Clark's face, but before he could finish the job by breaking the cretin's nose, Clark had lifted the gun. Staring the man down, Clark slowly crushed the weapon into a twisted ball of useless metal.

"I don't need technology," Clark said softly. From the look on Jack's face, Lex suspected a change of underwear was in order. "Who are you and who do you work for?"

"I work for nobody," Jack stammered.

"I don't believe you."

Jack regarded Clark with narrowed eyes and said nothing.

"Fine. We'll let the police deal with you."

Lex cleared his throat. "Not to rain on your Junior G-Man parade, Jiminy, but who do you expect to press charges?"

Silence. "Oh." Lex would have worn Jack's suit to Club Zero to see Clark's face. "Well. Fine."

Clark dropped the steaming ball of metal, and grabbed both of Jack's lapels to lift him a foot off the ground and ram him into the nearest steel support beam. Jack gasped and clutched wildly at Clark's arms.

"Ow! That's gotta hurt," Lex remarked.

"Okay. You've got no name and you don't work for anybody. But I never forget a face, and if I see yours in Metropolis again you're going to wind up looking like this." Clark kicked the object formerly known as Jack's gun.

"It'd be an improvement." Lex smoothed out his suit.

"Get out of here." Clark tossed Jack toward the exit with sufficient force to make the man slide several feet on his backside.

Breathing hard, Jack hauled himself to his feet. "I never forget a face either," he snarled, then strode away with more haste than dignity would have allowed.

Clark touched the pendant to reveal an exasperated expression. "I leave you alone for five minutes--"

"Can I help it if I'm irresistible to muggers?"

"You're irresistible to trouble, mastermind." Clark took Lex's face in his hands, smiling. "You're a bad mojo magnet."

Lex tried to look annoyed. "You've been talking to Pete, haven't you?"

Clark kissed him. "Maybe we should get to the roof before the cops actually notice all these alarms, huh?"

"Sound tactical advice." Getting Clark home and into bed was always good strategy.

"Do you think he'll really remember our faces?"

Lex snorted as Clark swung him into his arms. "That clown? I'd lay even money he won't be able to remember his own."


End file.
